âThere was enough provender in the waste baskets alone to feed half the starving population of Northamptonshire for weeks, if not months.â
Albany laughed. He knew my opinions on the gulf that existed between rich and poor, and although he naturally didnât share them, he had let me have my say on several occasions, merely advising me not to be so open with anyone but himself. I wondered sometimes why he was so tolerant, but decided that he found me amusing and, moreover, had need of me.
âBut donât wander off again without permission,â he said, resuming his seat at the kingâs right hand. âIâve told you, I want you in attendance day and night. Now, stand close. The mummings are about to begin.â
The jugglers came first, tossing a rainbow of coloured balls into the air and catching them again with amazing dexterity. And not only balls, but spoons, knives, beakers or anything else that took their fancy. The leader even begged the use of three of the precious Venetian glass goblets used by King Edward and his most important guests, throwing them, sparkling, into the candlelight while everyone gasped and held his breath. But they were returned to the high table undamaged, and the king took a velvet purse full of money from one of his attendants, tossing it to the man, to be shared out between him and the rest of the troupe.
Tumblers followed, rolling around the floor, balancing on one anotherâs shoulders, contorting their lithe and agile bodies into a variety of shapes. It all looked very painful and risky, and once or twice I found my eyes watering in sympathy for the agony they must be enduring. But they seemed none the worse for it and departed from the hall to resounding applause.
Musicians and dancers came next, then a group of singers; but I have to admit that my attention wandered during these last two items. I have absolutely no ear for music of any kind and, personally, cannot sustain a tune for more than a couple of notes. But other people enjoyed it judging by the applause and the number of coins tossed to the performers, while the king handed out purses with a liberal hand. It was obvious that no expense was being spared, and if there were any Scottish spies lurking amongst the onlookers â as there no doubt were â word would get back to King James that his brother was being treated by the English as if he were already the reigning monarch.
There was a slight pause before the final entertainment, which, I gathered, was to be the masque, and I took the opportunity to glance around the hall searching for Murdo MacGregor and Donald Seton. But I was unable to locate them; hardly surprising considering the crush of people standing along the walls behind the row of benches. What was surprising, however, was the discovery, on looking over my shoulder, that Davey Gray had disappeared. He had been dancing the most assiduous attendance on his master all evening, only stepping a few paces from Albanyâs side when he needed to relieve himself behind one of the wall-hangings. But now there was no sign of him. I presumed that, at long last, he had been given permission to go and eat.
The Master of the Revels, who had been fussing about, instructing the lackeys where to place various candelabra and a number of artificial trees â whose leaves glowed with the green fire of emeralds â now approached the high table to announce the start of the masque. This, it seemed, was to take the form of a forest glade, where animals, nymphs and wood sprites cavorted and sang hymns to the great mother goddess, Earth, and her consort, the Green Man. And the moment that latter name was mentioned, I knew at once what mask it was that my assailant had been wearing. The glimpse had been fleeting, but I could see again in my mindâs eye the sprouting foliage from the mouth and the leafy eyebrows and hair.
I waited impatiently for the masque to progress while the mummers
Albany laughed. He knew my opinions on the gulf that existed between rich and poor, and although he naturally didnât share them, he had let me have my say on several occasions, merely advising me not to be so open with anyone but himself. I wondered sometimes why he was so tolerant, but decided that he found me amusing and, moreover, had need of me.
âBut donât wander off again without permission,â he said, resuming his seat at the kingâs right hand. âIâve told you, I want you in attendance day and night. Now, stand close. The mummings are about to begin.â
The jugglers came first, tossing a rainbow of coloured balls into the air and catching them again with amazing dexterity. And not only balls, but spoons, knives, beakers or anything else that took their fancy. The leader even begged the use of three of the precious Venetian glass goblets used by King Edward and his most important guests, throwing them, sparkling, into the candlelight while everyone gasped and held his breath. But they were returned to the high table undamaged, and the king took a velvet purse full of money from one of his attendants, tossing it to the man, to be shared out between him and the rest of the troupe.
Tumblers followed, rolling around the floor, balancing on one anotherâs shoulders, contorting their lithe and agile bodies into a variety of shapes. It all looked very painful and risky, and once or twice I found my eyes watering in sympathy for the agony they must be enduring. But they seemed none the worse for it and departed from the hall to resounding applause.
Musicians and dancers came next, then a group of singers; but I have to admit that my attention wandered during these last two items. I have absolutely no ear for music of any kind and, personally, cannot sustain a tune for more than a couple of notes. But other people enjoyed it judging by the applause and the number of coins tossed to the performers, while the king handed out purses with a liberal hand. It was obvious that no expense was being spared, and if there were any Scottish spies lurking amongst the onlookers â as there no doubt were â word would get back to King James that his brother was being treated by the English as if he were already the reigning monarch.
There was a slight pause before the final entertainment, which, I gathered, was to be the masque, and I took the opportunity to glance around the hall searching for Murdo MacGregor and Donald Seton. But I was unable to locate them; hardly surprising considering the crush of people standing along the walls behind the row of benches. What was surprising, however, was the discovery, on looking over my shoulder, that Davey Gray had disappeared. He had been dancing the most assiduous attendance on his master all evening, only stepping a few paces from Albanyâs side when he needed to relieve himself behind one of the wall-hangings. But now there was no sign of him. I presumed that, at long last, he had been given permission to go and eat.
The Master of the Revels, who had been fussing about, instructing the lackeys where to place various candelabra and a number of artificial trees â whose leaves glowed with the green fire of emeralds â now approached the high table to announce the start of the masque. This, it seemed, was to take the form of a forest glade, where animals, nymphs and wood sprites cavorted and sang hymns to the great mother goddess, Earth, and her consort, the Green Man. And the moment that latter name was mentioned, I knew at once what mask it was that my assailant had been wearing. The glimpse had been fleeting, but I could see again in my mindâs eye the sprouting foliage from the mouth and the leafy eyebrows and hair.
I waited impatiently for the masque to progress while the mummers
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